


Polyshipping Day Ficlets

by Vulgarweed



Series: Polyshipping Day Works [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Foursome - F/M/M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulgarweed/pseuds/Vulgarweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Polyshipping Day is actually a monthly thing? First day of every month? FANTASTIC. I will try to add to this every month.  Each chapter is a different ficlet or drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long Hard Day (Sherlock; Sherlock/John/Mary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 221B format.

_Come immediately **–SH**_

John, at work at the clinic, looked at the text with a rushing sense of terror. He showed it to Mary, and she nodded. “Go. No, really, go. I’ll make excuses and take over your patients. Text me back if it’s a real emergency. If you don’t, I’ll assume it’s the usual. Well. One of the usuals. You can still text me if it’s a usual I like.”

John kissed her gratefully and hailed a taxi to take him to 221B Baker Street, where John and Mary were still pretending they didn’t live.

John rushed up the stairs and forced open the door and was greeted with the sight of Sherlock - not only unharmed and not stressed, but so relaxed that he was naked and erect upon the couch. All right, fair enough, a man should be able to do that in his own flat, John had to agree.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean you had to _arrive_ right away. I thought you understood slang.”

John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock stared back.

‘You texted -?”

“Yes, of course. I was hoping for some, ahem, sexting that cut right to the climax. Do we really still need foreplay?”

John licked his lips and texted Mary: “It’s the kind of emergency that needs your birch.”


	2. Every Grain Has a Value (Lord of the Rings; Frodo/Sam/Rosie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> double drabble; 200 words

Samwise knew why Mr. Frodo felt ill and withdrew from society at this time of year. That stabbing phantom pain in Frodo’s shoulder would still flare up, no matter that the creature that inflicted the wound was long gone. The ache in the stump of Frodo’s truncated finger, that too would assert itself months later.

Sam’s dear Rosie exclaimed at the sight of Frodo’s scars once she saw him bare. The romp of three that had seemed so natural and easy under the Party Tree. “Oh, Frodo,” Rosie said, nearly weeping. She gave the tension in Frodo’s shoulders a cursory massage, and Frodo sighed in relaxation and relief - but she refrained from touching the scars that really counted, for she kenned how he’d jumped.

Rosie left Frodo’s scars alone from then on. Instead, she leaned down and whispered about how handsome and brave he was, how much her Samwise loved him, how sweet that prick would feel in her hand and her mouth.

“Rosie, please,” Frodo said. “I–”

What Frodo might have said was lost to history, for Sam kissed him deep, and Rosie worked her way down to suck.

_My loves, my loves,_ Sam thought, overtaken with joy.


	3. Recurring Slope Lineae (Good Omens, The Them as a Quad/OT4, Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam can still make things happen, if he isn't careful - but the things he finds too important to mess with, those are the real miracles.

If coming out as pansexual and poly had been scary - and it was - it wasn’t a patch on coming out as the Antichrist. There was a shocking lack of resources and advice columnists eager to pitch in. That was the only reason Adam had put it off so long, of course. It definitely wasn’t because, while his three partners-cum-flatmates certainly weren’t averse to high weirdness, learning they’d been shacking up with the literal son of Satan - and giving him footrubs and blowjobs and bitching with impunity about his dirty dishes - well, that would test any relationship. He could have the world, but he didn’t want the world. Pepper was right, One-World Dictatorship would be the ultimate in cleaning up other people’s messes for them. Everything he wanted, he already had. They were four friends. Four lovers together, in every which way. Two bedrooms (shared in unpredictable configurations) in a crappy flat in a … picturesque … neighbourhood.

But Adam had been a grownup for years now, he figured. If he waited til he felt like one, he might never do it at all.

“Oh, Adam,” Pepper’d said, same as the first times. “We’ve known that forever.”

“Really?”

“Since we were kids,” Brian said, taking his hand off Wensleydale’s thigh to gesture emphatically, then realised he liked it better where it was. “You know, the-”

“You too, Wensley?” Adam had asked, a little incredulously.

“Well, I held out wanting to believe in a more rational explanation for a bit longer, but I couldn’t deny the evidence. Tibetans. Martians. The actual Four Horsemen…”

“Horsepersons!” Pepper snapped, sliding down into Adam’s lap.

“So - you aren’t worried that-” Adam’s mouth had gone dry. “That I’m, you know, that you don’t really want, that-” He’d had a speech prepared, and it had gone wherever the Horsepersons hadn’t, it was definitely nowhere to be found in the minds of men, or at least this man.

“You’re not omnipotent,” Wensleydale said.

“He sure isn’t,” Brian said with a lazy smile. “Got it up three times last night–”

Wensleydale gave his longest-suffering sigh, which was long indeed. “You aren’t _all-powerful._ You chose not to be. I’ll bet you didn’t even know they found water on Mars yesterday, did you?”

“That was a really good Doctor Who episode,” Pepper said.

“WHAT?” Adam demanded and seized Wensleydale’s laptop to stare at the NASA site, which meant that Brian could now take its place on Wensleydale’s lap.

“Recurring slope lineae,” Wensleydale said. “It’s pretty conclusive.

“Wow,” Adam said, gazing at the images, lost and rapt in wonder.

“You didn’t make that happen, did you?” Pepper said. “I mean, you could’ve. If you’d thought about it. If you wanted to.”

“No!” Adam said. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know! And even if … I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t mess with this.”

“Not like when you were a kid. You were just a kid when you messed with things. You didn’t know any better. You didn’t know about _us,_ either,” Pepper said. “You didn’t know this was going to happen. You didn’t know it _could_ happen. You still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“Yeah, I …” Adam looked up at his three lovers with the same sort of awe and amazement he had for water on Mars. They deserved it. They were every bit as exciting. “I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Maybe that’s why you do,” Pepper said, and kissed him.


	4. Yes, Mrs. Watson, You Will (Sherlock/Mary/John, rated T, plotty)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 221B drabble, canon-divergence AU. Somebody had to do it - this time, it's Mary.

“No, Mrs. Watson, you won’t,” Sherlock said.

Mary knew how to shoot to wound badly enough to create plausible deniability; she’d done it before. Her gunsight was focused on certain areas of Sherlock’s chest - nick his liver, perhaps, cause pain and terrible internal bleeding, but not kill unless they were both very unlucky. But risking Sherlock’s life was unthinkable.

John was downstairs. She had to think of John. She had to _think._

That bullet couldn’t stay unfired, not when she’d worked so hard to get here to get free. She turned and sent it through Magnussen’s skull. There was little noise, but unfortunately the mess could not be avoided.

Sherlock stared, trembled, horrified. “Mary—“ he muttered.

“Shut up,” she said, lowering her gun arm, coming close and twining her gloved hand in his hair to bring him down for a fast, hard kiss. “Please. Find a way. You said you would help me.”

“I will,” Sherlock repeated. “I’ll find a way to keep you with us, no matter what.”

“I trust you, but I have to go for now. The police will come. They’ll know it’s not John’s gun. You saw nothing. Please.”

Sherlock nodded. “John and I both love you. Whatever he had on you, we’ll erase. I can work in hospital. Pistol-whip me unconscious so time is bought.”


End file.
